


that bright chimeric beast

by thescyfychannel



Series: In Brightness [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Magic, Forest Sex, Forests, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Humanstuck, Interspecies, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Magic, Magical Forest, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unicorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-07-03 19:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15825831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: If anyone ever wanted to know the real story, you'd give it to them: unicorns are fuckingassholes.





	1. closing the circle of this ancient mystic legend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lizardlicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardlicks/gifts).



> This prompt is actually for any two characters. Character A) as a regular troll or human encounters character B) as a mythical creature (dragon, centaur, angel, werewolf, etc). They fuck.
> 
> Play up the xeno aspect from the normal character’s perspective. This thing’s habbits/mannerisms/noises/sexy bits are weird! Hot, but weird. But also charming and cute somehow.

The first time you meet the unicorn, you are ten and you've just had a huge fight with your brother.

 

Cro is a newly minted fifteen, and assumes this means he doesn't have to "put up with your childish fantasies anymore", as if he A. wasn't the one who  _started_  you into myths and magic, and B. wasn't  _just yesterday_  pestering you about going out looking for creatures in the woods behind your home.

But now, when you're the one who brings it up to him, it's uncool, and pointless, and stupid.

Well  _screw him_.

You'd grabbed your backpack and headed for the woods on your own. If he wanted to be a jerk, he could be a jerk at home, where you didn't have to deal with it! You were going out to the woods, and even though part of was saying that it was kinda certain there  _wouldn't_  be any unicorns in the woods, you were going to ignore it, and keep going.

 

About half an hour into your mad trek, you realize that you're hopelessly lost.

 

Somewhere along the way, you'd gotten the real trail confused with some kind of animal trail, and you're in part of the forest you'd never seen before. 

Usually, if you were with your brother, it wouldn't be too bad. Grand new adventure, exciting journey, maybe  _this_  will be the way to Hogwarts, so on and so forth.

Because you're  _not_  with the brother, and you're  _very_  conscious of the fact that you're a ten year old kid, you're maybe a little freaking out.

 

The freak out is slightly staunched by the fact that you were smart enough to bring BOTH a compass and a map, along with actual food, snacks, and  _three_  bottles of water. And also? This is a really nice part of the forest to be lost in. There's a little clearing, with a little stream, and flowers all around. Birds are singing, sun is shining through leaves woven together to create a canopy—if this was one of the books you guys read (used to read) together, this would be the place where the hero found safety and succor.

Crap. You still had to look up what "succor" meant when you got home.

 

Instead of freaking out, you take a seat in the shelter of a tree, the waterproof jacket you'd brought going down first so you didn't get soaked, and pull out your pocket notebook to write that down. See? Not panicking. Cool, calm, and resourceful. Just like the heroes. Cro could  _suck it_.

 

* * *

 

It's a nice little place to stop and rest and have your lunch. By the time you've eaten, a bit more rational thinking has set in—enough for you to be a little bit worried about how you're going to get home. You've got a map, and a compass. You know how to climb trees well enough to get through the canopy and see the sun's position. Your Da taught you both how to navigate by stars, and you're pretty certain you could make that work for you.

But at the same time, you are  _keenly_  aware of the fact that this is  _not_  one of your usual novels. You are not the bold hero, and what might make for grand temporary (or permanent) safety and succor in a book was still a huge forest that you had absolutely no idea how to leave. This was going to be tricky, all kinds of tricky, in fact, and you were starting to get just a little bit  _more_  worried than you were a few seconds ago.

Shit. You need to stop that. Worrying's going to make you do stupid shit, and stupid shit is likely to get you killed.

 

Ten more minutes pass, and the other half of your first bottle of water. Then you set out again, trying to find the trail.

 

* * *

 

You don't find the unicorn until you're well and truly lost.

Or rather, the unicorn doesn't find  _you_  until things reach that point, and you're wandering the forest with panic slowly tightening its grip over your spine. You don't want to be here. You don't want to be  _scared_.

Unfortunately, you are very much both of those things.

 

"What the fuck."

When you first hear that voice, you're torn between crying in relief and screaming in fright: indecision makes you seem more calm than you actually are, because you do neither of these things. Instead, you turn towards the sound of the voice—and topple onto your ass when you come face to face with two feet of spiral-sharp horn.

The unicorn stares at you. You stare at the unicorn.

"What the  _fuck_ ," you echo back, and it tosses its head like the horses you sometimes see in fields on long drives.

"I said that first." Okay. Holy fuck. Okay. There's a unicorn in the forest (which means you were right, and Cro can fucking  _suck it_ ), and the unicorn can, apparently, actually talk.

You swallow hard. The unicorn stares down at you. "Hi."

"Wow! Congratulations! You've singlehandedly won the award for most eloquent human I've ever met, which is, as you may have guessed, is nowhere near as difficult as you may have thought, considering that you are  _the only fucking human I have ever met_." He—you're assuming this unicorn is a he, based on his voice, and you're gonna feel like a dick if you're wrong, even if he is a major asshole—paws at the ground. "What the fuck are you doing in this forest?"

Flushed red, you scramble to your feet. "I got lost." You're not entirely sure why you're defending your decisions to a unicorn. You're not entirely sure why he's questioning you either, though, so really, you're all just out here. "What the fuck are you doin' in this forest?"

"I  _live_  here," he says, tossing his head. That horn gets a little closer than you're comfortable with. "Gods. Fucking humans. Okay. Fine!"

 

He turns away from you, and starts off in a completely different direction. You stare after him, and before he vanishes between the trees, he turns back and glares at you. "Well?"

"Well  _what_?"

"Do you want to get out of here in one piece or not?"

"...yeah okay," you say, and scramble to repack your bag and get it over a shoulder. As you hurry after him, you shove your other arm through the other strap, and get it all twisted around you. "So, uh—"

"Nope."

You blink. You haven't even gotten to ask any questions. "But—"

"I don't care what you're about to ask, kid. I'm not answering any questions, and I'm not asking anymore questions. I'm getting you out of here, alive, and that will be the end of that. Understood?" His tone brokers no nonsense. If it weren't for the fact that he looks like a very young unicorn, with his tiny little hoofs and short little height, you might even listen.

"I'm Eridan," you say, and he stops and huffs, stamping at the ground.

"I said I wasn't going to ask!"

You shrug, even though he can't see it. "You're not askin' if I'm tellin' you," you say.

For some reason, this seems to appease him, and he keeps on going. "Fine. Eridan, then."

"I live near the woods, actually. Come out here for hikin' an' such sometimes," you continue, thumbs hooked into your pack as you hike. "It's a nice place, honestly. So long as you don't get sidetracked onto trails, y'know?"

"I don't know," he says, acid dripping off every word. " _I_  stay on the paths."

Now you're a tiny bit offended—enough to have you shutting up for a bit longer, as he guides you back towards wherever he's taking you. Actually, the thought has a flicker of worry running through you: where  _is_  he taking you? He never actually  _said_  that he'd bring you home, but...

You glance at him, then stare back out into the forest. You're not going to ask a jerk like him about this kind of thing.

 

Yet.

Maybe if it seems like he's leading you a little too far into the forest to leave you for who knows what, then you will. Until then, though, he can suck it.

 

The two of you continue in silence for a while more, but you're soon distracted from your grudge. You can't help it, really—the unicorn is taking you along a different path entirely, through places that you've never seen before. Everything is absolutely resplendent (you really like this word), in all of its natural beauty. You're maybe staring a little bit, as much as you can while you're trying to keep up with your guide.

About a mile or so in, you notice him watching you watch things, and it's your turn to scowl. "Whaddya think you're lookin' at, huh?"

"You," he says, and you feel yourself go red. Maybe he notices that, despite all of his other rude behaviors, because he rather abruptly changes the subject, with another toss of his mane. "Do you dye your hair?"

You blink, again, startled for the umpteenth time. "The fuck kinda question is that supposed to be?"

"The honest one. You don't  _have_  to answer." From his tone, he sounds both offended and petty. You'd wager he wants a reply.

But you can't resist needling him a little bit more. "I thought you said you weren't askin' anymore questions, huh?"

His eyes go a little wide—you'll admit it. You didn't realize how surprise would appear on a horse, but this seems fitting. "Well—"

"Looks like you're gonna owe me an answer if I give you an answer."

Your guide appears to mull it over for a second. Two. Three. Time stretched out, and you're considering calling it off, explaining that it was a joke—but he finally nods. "As long as I get to pick which question I answer."

"Sure," you say, and nod towards the forest. "I don't dye anythin'. It's genetic, the lighter patch. Da has it, Cro too—my older brother—but he dyes it away, an' I think Da used to dye it when he was younger? Sometimes he does now, I'm not sure why, though."

"Huh." His tail flicks, and you idly wonder if you should ask him about that—or anything else about what being a sort of...pointier horse, is like. "What's your question?"

For a moment, you're tempted to ask him for his name. For information on magical spells, magical creatures, for some kind of incontrovertible (you  _love_  that word) proof that magic is real.

And then the moment passes, and you shrug. "I'll ask somethin' when I'm ready, I guess." The forest, slowly, has become more and more familiar, and you pause, a few feet from your own house, by your best judgment. "This it?"

He turns to face you, and paws at the ground, just a little bit nervous. "Yes, but don't you want to ask something?"

You shake your head, and shift your pack around on your shoulders a little bit better. "Not yet. Thanks for gettin' me back home, though."

His expression falls, ever so slightly, and if you didn't know any better you might assume he was sad about the lack of questions, or maybe even the end of your journey together. Good thing you knew way better than that.

"Bye," you say, and his tail twitches."

"Right," he finally says, after several—much longer than usual—seconds. "Bye."

You turn and head off. When you look back, he's watching you go, and you raise your hand to wave.

 

It only seems right, really.

 

* * *

 

Cronus is kind of apologetic, at first, and when he sneaks into your room after midnight and  _really_  apologizes to you, in a shaky voice that tells you how worried he was, you resolve to forgive him.

It lasts about a day, until he pulls some even  _more_  stupid shit, but you remember him sneaking up in the middle of the night pretty often, from then on. Sometimes it helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is gonna be a bumpy slowburn ride


	2. about the wilds (they hunt with spear and horn)

The second time you meet the unicorn, you're in the liminal space of summer.

 

It's the period of time just between the end of middle school and the beginning of high school. You're fourteen, which gives you a whole year's worth of experience in being a teenager, and you've made sure that  _everyone_  in the household knows it. Cro is now nineteen, fresh out of his freshman year in college, and he seems determined to lord  _that_  over you as he has so little else to do so with.

Neither of you have bothered talking about fantasy creatures or exploring or even anything more occult than a harvest festival or the occasional academic discussion of mythology.

Oh, right, and  _Good Omens_. You'd both expanded that love of Pratchett and Gaiman you'd inherited from your Da.

 

Fourteen was a hard age. It was a hard fuckin' age and almost no one understood—Cro pretended at it, when he wasn't obsessed with girls and boys and proving how much of a dick he was, and  _sometimes_  he did alright at it. Da was...Da, with that confused and distant sort of caring he'd shown since you lost Mom, when you and Cro were barely old enough to actually be useful at all.

So you were kind of on your own, and you'd taken to exploring the forest again, this summer, but with a great deal more caution and knowledge than ever before. It's been four years since the last time you'd gotten lost, and you're determined to keep the streak going even longer.

You've occupied these jaunts with mapping things out, noting down details on the careworn maps you'd brought, to add to the proper one you left back home. It was a gift from Da, for Christmas, and you're determined to make good use of it.

If you're being honest, you're also pretty determined to figure out if you were actually hallucinating or something, four years ago. If you're being realistic, it's unlikely you'll find anything. If you're being truthful, this isn't the first time you've gone out to the forest looking for the unicorn.

If you're being practical, he still owes you a question, and you're pretty damn determined to collect.

 

Several jaunts out into the woods—you average five a week, if not one a day—pass, with nothing to show. You don't quit: if there's one thing that can be said for the entirety of your family, it's that you're all stubborn bastards.

Cro comes with you a couple times, your Da, a scant handful. You don't begrudge them that, awkward attempts to bond or prove something. Sometimes you wonder if something would happen  _this_  trip, if only they weren't there, but sometimes the company's nice. It's a little easier to forget that you're fourteen and everything's awful under a brilliant canopy of sun-struck leaves.

And you think it means they worry about you when you're gone.

That's pretty nice too.

 

* * *

 

Slowly, slowly, you push back the unknown edges of the map, with nothing to show for it. Your Da's proud of your dedication, Cronus shows tentative interest in your progress (even though you're not sure  _why_ ), and...things are okay.

Not great. They're okay.

You'd question why this is the case if you had the time and care to, but you don't, so you won't.

You keep working, you keep your head down, and for a time, there's peace.

 

* * *

 

It's midsummer proper, and your Da had seemed oddly anxious about you going out.

You can't quite explain it—he'd never seemed to mind  _before_ , never seemed to be upset even when you'd confessed to going off the trail the first time you'd taken him out. He'd bought you a better compass, and a GPS locator, and something you could use to ping him in a worst case scenario. 

...okay, he'd actually set the pinging thing to beep at you every half hour, and if you didn't tap an "all clear", it'd alert him, but  _still_. It was an unprecedented, unexpected, level of worry.

"Da," you start, and he shakes his head, frowning. "Da, I'll be fine."

"I don't know—"

"You've been fine with it every other  _day_ ," you say, and try not to wince at the whine in your voice. You're a  _man_  now. Sorta.

"I suppose, but—" From the expression he's wearing, you know you've got him, so you go in for the kill—just the way he taught you.

"We hunt in the woods," you say, as patient and rational as fourteen years can muster. "I've got the tracker an' the GPS an' the compass an' my maps. I'll bring all a' them, an' you can set the ping to be more frequent, if you'd like. I won't be gone any longer than I've been gone before, an' for that matter, I've been doin' this for  _ages_  without any sort a trouble. Besides, don't you  _trust_  me?"

Your Da looks a little hunted, and you feel a flash of guilt. Something in you relents. "But, I mean, if you really don't want me to go—"

"No," he interrupts, and you feel another flash of that guilt. Fuck. You didn't want to actually  _empathize_  with your old man. "Go on ahead. Just...just be careful, aye?"

"Aye, I promise," you say, and he looks relieved enough that your guilt eases.

"And don't stay out after dark," he amends, and you sigh.

"I  _promise_ ," you say, unable to keep the exasperation from your voice. "I'll be home before the last a the light's gone. Okay?"

"Okay."

 

When you finally set out, the summer's in full swing and the day couldn't be lovelier. It's perfect out, and you're  _damn_  glad you talked your Da into letting you go. Cro's working on his car in the garage, and you holler a standard goodbye and get a wave of farewell in reply—not that you  _care_ , but it's kinda nice that he does.

It's not until you reach the edge of the forest proper that you realize he's calling after you. You turn back, and see him standing solidly on the property, something akin to the worry your Da wore so poorly in his eyes. "What's up?" For once, you keep your tone careful—there's something in the air, in your family, that demands it be so.

"Are you headin' out into the forest, Dan?" For a moment, you considering calling him out on his stupidity. You can think of several good ways to do it, including glancing up at all the trees around you, then back at him.

Instead, you give him a smile. "Yeah. Why? Did you need me for somethin'?"

"Uh," he starts, and glances at the forest behind you, then back towards the house—it's then that you realize your Da's in his study, looking out the window at the both of you. "No. I mean—unless you wanted to help with the car?"

It's an offer, and an attempt to keep you home, and you're as unsure about the reason as you are sure that you want to be out in the forest. "Maybe later? Or tomorrow, or somethin'."

He glances at your Da's window again, then back at you, and his shoulder slump. "Right. Okay. The old man knows where you're headed, right?"

"Right," you say, and he sighs. That strange bit of guilt washes over you again.

"Okay," he says, and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Good. Good, uh—just be careful, okay?"

"Sure," you promise, and shift your backpack to a slightly more comfortable position. "I'll be home before the last a the light's gone."

Cro raises a hand in farewell, again, and you head off. 

 

You'll have time to sort this puzzle out later.

You're sure of it.

 

* * *

 

It's the noise that draws you in.

 

At first, you don't really notice it. A solid, steady beat, it blends in with your own heart, with your own thoughts. Then you hear the chimes—like wind chimes, almost, but as if they were being hit in a pattern, as if the wind itself was blending them into the beat. They sounded like chimes made of some fine, unbreakable glass, and the beat sounded as if it came from hollow wood and solid stone.

And then you hear the singing.

 

Your pace speeds up, shoving aside tree boughs and brambles, eager to see what's beyond this place, eager to follow the music—

 

Then someone crashes into you with all the stopping power of a horse.

Hah.

That's funny.

 

Because when you regain your bearings, the unicorn's standing over you, coat soaked in sweat, panting heavily, his sides quivering—you feel another flicker of guilt, and this one, you embrace. For one, it's easier than getting mad, and for two, well. Whatever's the matter, he's obviously pushed himself hard, and you don't even know why.

So you sit up, and wait for his explanation, and do your godsdamn best to ignore the music that's still calling you onwards.

"What the absolute shitfucking hell do you think you're doing," he says, and you immediately regret all of your decisions, especially that one about sitting up and being reasonable and  _waiting_  for his explanations about crashing into you like he's some godsdamn linebacker and it's the Thanksgiving Day Game.

It annoys you enough to have you shoving off the ground, so that you're better able to glare at him. "I  _think_  I'm out here tryin' to investigate some strange happenin' that's in the middle of occurrin'!"

He tosses his head, clearly annoyed. "And did you ever think that  _maybe_  there was a reason you weren'tinvited?"

 _Invited_. It makes you flash back to your Da, to Cro, to their nerves and concern and worry. To the promises they had you make.

For some reason, everything makes a lot more sense now, and absolutely none at all.

"...no," you say, and the unicorn seems to accept that, because that horn shifts the slightest bit upwards. You hadn't realized it had been pointed at you. "I didn't."

"Too fucking right you didn't," he mutters, and glances back over his shoulder. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you tromping all over this forest? How easy do you think we are to find?"

"I wasn't—" And you stop, because that would be a lie, and you have a feeling that wouldn't go over well. "I just."

"Just  _what._ "

"I wanted to see you again," you say, and shrug.

 

For some reason, this appeases him like nothing else, because he steps into your reach and  _gently_ nudges your hand. You realize, with a jolt, that it is the second time you and the unicorn have ever made physical contact, with the first being a few minutes prior, when he cannoned into you. "You're not that bad a kid," he concedes, ignoring the way it makes you scowl. "I'm assuming you can find your own way back home."

"I'll take this to mean you're not going to walk me," you say, and try not to let the prickle of disappointment roll over your skin in quite the way it wants to.

He glances over his shoulder again, distracted. You wonder, for a moment, if it makes his next answer a little bit more truthful: "No. I would, but...it's Midsummer."

You want to know what that means. You  _desperately_  want to know what that means.

But you have a feeling that he's not going to tell you, and you, well, you're. You're just a  _little_  bit warmed to the core by his admission that he'd like to walk you home. Would, you mean. Not would like to. Just  _would_  walk you home.

"Well," you start, and glance back over your shoulder. The sun's still up, but it's starting to dip downwards, and you have a feeling that you've gone quite a bit farther than you'd actually meant to. "Well. It was good seeing you."

He nods, and you tug awkwardly at one strap of your backpack, run a hand through your hair and grimace at the leaves that fall out of it. You turn to go.

"Wait!"

Immediately, you stop and turn back to look at him, all of you elated, wondering if you're going to be invited along, wondering if he's changed his mind—

"Your question," he says, and you do your best to hide the way your shoulders slump.

"What about it?"

From the way he fidgets, he's maybe feeling a little guilty about the way you kind of just fucking  _deflated_. Good. "Have you, uh. Have you thought of one yet?"

"No," you say, and you turn away again and stalk off.

 

* * *

 

It's the worst ending to a meeting the two of you ever have, and the both of you know it. You spend a long damn while on the walk back feeling awful about it, and sorry for yourself, and unable to tell  _anyone,_ least of all the brother and father who meet you with blackberry lemonade and barbecue steak and peaches, and a chance to watch the sunset turn into fireflies that slowly peep in and out of the woods.

 

By the time your head hits the pillow, you've almost completely forgotten about the unicorn. And part of you is okay with that.

 

* * *

 

The rest of you is definitely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the wind chimes are old pieces of shed horn.


	3. the news was brought to the mountains by

The third time you meet the unicorn, you're almost completely packed.

 

Da and Cro had headed off to the store to pick up a few more "dorm essentials", and you had decided to stay back and give your car a last look over. It wasn't in the greatest shape, considering you'd gotten it thirdhand, through Cro's high school autoshop connections, but it wasn't that  _bad_. And it was  _your_  car, which made it pretty damn good, in your opinion. And—

There's a rustle on the edge of the forest that has you turning back to look. Since your last run-in with that music— _with the unicorn_ , your brain supplies, before you shove the thought down—you'd been back in many times, each one more  _normal_  than the last. You were already at the point where you expected shit-all to happen, where you assumed that there wouldn't be any chance of...well, anything.

Let alone magic.

Let alone unicorns.

Let alone something that you used to believe in when you were a  _kid_.

 

So you're not sure why you look back like you're expecting something to happen, but you do, and it does.

 

At the edge of the forest is your unicorn— _the_  unicorn—and he looks like he's waiting for something.

Like he's waiting for you.

 

You tug the end of the rag you were using through your belt loop, and start off towards the forest. When he doesn't immediately bolt back into the trees, something in you starts to wonder again: maybe, maybe, some of what you'd thought was happening, some of what you'd imagined, wasn't such an imagining at all.

When you're about a foot away from the tree line, he sets off—but only a few yards further, always, always, turning back to look over his shoulder, waiting for you, leaving a clear line of sight for you to follow.

So you do.

 

* * *

 

The unicorn finally stops, in a little clearing that's less than the length of a football field in. You've never seen it before, and you have the funny feeling that you'll probably never see it again. For once, the thought of this—of losing some of the scant magic left in your life—does not bother you.

You take a seat on one of the rocks, and he settles down in a pose that'd make you think of all those medieval tapestries if you weren't so busy staring.

When you remember it later, you'll be very amused.

 

The unicorn looks at you. You wait, expectantly.

And you're rewarded with a little huff from him, and a flip of his tail. "So you're going then, are you?"

You blink: this is not what you expected. "Uh. Yeah."

"Is it because I wouldn't let you follow the music?" His ears seem to flip back, and you don't know horse very well, but if you'd guess, he looks...upset. Disappointed.

"What? No, fuck—that was four years ago, I'm not—" You pause. It's probably not a good idea to lie to magical creatures. "Alright, sure, I'm still a little mad about that, but I'm not  _leavin'_  on account a that."

Another little tail flick, and his horn dips and rises as he nods his head. You're not sure if he's working out nerves or nodding. "Oh. Right. Okay. Human time is...weird, I wasn't sure. So—so if it's not because of  _that_ , why are you going?"

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was whining. No matter what he is or isn't doing, though, he almost sounds  _upset_ , and a nasty little piece of you is rather proud that you're having this much of an impact on him. The rest of you, in a weird little tao of balance, feels bad. It's a reminder of the second time you met, and you dislike it enough that it makes you rather short: "College."

The unicorn blinks, and looks you over. "College? Further schooling? You're old enough for that?"

Now most of the guilt is gone, and you glare him down. " _Yeah_  I'm old enough for that. How fuckin' old did you think I was, huh?"

"I  _told_  you," he says, and now he sounds annoyed himself, "human time is  _weird_. I wasn't sure!"

"Wow  _thanks_ ," you say, and you have barely a second to reflect that every time you meet, it seems like you're not getting along, before you continue with: "Sure is great to be told I'm unwanted and weird."

The unicorn's on his feet before you see him move. "I didn't say that!"

"Well you sure didn't say much  _better_."

He whinnies, and you have to blink, because it's one of the most horselike things you've seen out of him. "Do you really think I'd come looking for you at the edge of the forest if I didn't want you around? Do you  _really_  think I'd try to keep you safe on Midsummer if I didn't  _care_?"

You swallow hard. Oh. Fuck. This is—this is kinda weird isn't it? He's a fucking  _horse_ , with a little extra in the weapons department, and you're getting emotional over him saying he cares. "I didn't say anythin' about carin'."

"Well  _I_ did," he says, and that seems to be that.

 

For long moments, that  _is_  that. You both go kinda quiet, sitting there together, waiting. Neither of you are really sure what to say, but neither of you really want to admit that, and neither of you really want to go.

Finally, you take a deep breath, and reach out to run a hand over his gleaming grey coat. From the way he leans into your touch, he seems to like it. "Thanks." When he seems about to protest, you shake your head. "No, really. Thank you. I mean it."

"I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't  _true_ ," he says flicking his tail again, "but you're welcome, I guess."

"Look," you say, stroking over his coat and wishing you had a currycomb. You don't know  _much_  about horses, but your Da made sure you and Cro both knew the basics, when you went to visit the family branch that had farmland and ranches. "I'm not gonna be gone forever. It's college, I get breaks an' shit. Fall break, I'll be home for that, an' then there's the winter break, covers Christmas an' shit. An' spring break's a good time too, not to mention, I'll be home all summer, if I don't have a job or internship or anythin' keepin' me."

"Really?" The hopeful note in his voice is like a shot through the heart, and you nod, immediately, wanting to reassure him.

"Really. I promise. I'll be back before you know it, alright?" You pause, smirking at him. "Definitely before you know it, if your sense a my time is as weird as you say."

 _"Hey."_ He sounds so fucking offended. 

You can't help but tease him. "Is for horses."

The unicorn snaps at you with blunt teeth that still look like they could do a bit of damage, and you laugh so hard you fall off your rock.

 

* * *

 

When you finally get back home, your car's in the best shape it's ever been, and less than an hour has passed: Da and Cro still aren't back yet, even though you were sure you'd taken actual, literal,  _hours_.

Everything the unicorn's said is starting to make a bit more sense now, but you decide not to question it. At least—not too deeply. Not now. Not yet.

 

When your father and older brother get back, they ask you how your day went—you mention a brief trip through the forest, to say goodbye, and they exchange glances. You're sorely tempted to ask them about it, about everything, but the subject suddenly turns to your classes and your history degree, and it doesn't take them long before you're so distracted that you forget your intentions, until later that night.

 

* * *

 

And later that night when you remember, you light a single candle and leave it in your windowsill, as promised half a day (or a scant few hours) earlier.

From the woods, you think you see the gleam of starlight, moving in a flickering pattern, a beautiful dance, as it weaves in and out of the glow of the fireflies.

When you sleep, it's easily; when you dream, it's well.

 

And when you wake, the candle is out.


	4. a shadow or symbol

You come home for your fall and winter breaks, but you don't venture into the woods alone until the snow's piled heavy in drifts. Really, you're pretty sure your Da's worried about you going again, but you'd promised to stay on the paths, and you meant it, with all of your heart.

Well, you'd meant it right up until you'd seen the tracks leading off the path and deeper into the woods.

Your whole family hunted, and you knew deer—the deer stands that still saw use in the fall weren't too far away from the main paths you'd made, even if your Da preferred to hunt on a friend's land, that had mostly been turned towards farm usage—and these, these weren't deer.

Actually, to your practiced eye, they looked like something caught partway between horse and deer, and you had a damn good feeling you knew what that meant.

With the smallest twinge of guilt, you make sure all the overprotective parent shit your Da got for you is still good to go, then set off into the woods to follow the unicorn tracks.

 

* * *

 

For a while, you're pretty sure the only thing going for you is your surprisingly excellent peripheral vision abilities. For someone who desperately needed glasses to do _anything_ , you've always managed pretty alright when you were out in the field. Darkness flit between the trees, in shapes and forms that almost made you think of the dancing you'd heard in summer, so so long ago.

It would make you stop, if you weren't so determined to stay on your. It's the closest you can come to keeping your promise to your Da, even as you break it. It would make you stop, but you don't; it makes you wonder, even as you continue on.

And even though you keep going, you can't help but contemplate what it would be like to turn aside, to leave the path, to follow those flickers calling you further and further away.

 

It doesn't take long for the unicorn to find you. You do end up blinking at him, several times, as if you're having trouble seeing him—and honestly, you are. You blink. He blinks.

"I didn't know seasonal polypheniesm ran in unicorns," you say, and you're pleased that it sounds somewhat intelligent. It's a different shade of coloration than you're used to seeing on him, and the bright white brilliance of a classical unicorn somehow suits him and looks incredibly out of place all at once.

"We're like Arctic foxes," he says, and you blink again.

"What, really? I would've thought you'd mention, fuck, I dunno, Snowshoe hares or somethin'."

The laughing whinny's surprisingly nice to hear, and you grin at him, even if you're not sure you get the joke. "Oh fuck's sake," he says, and you wonder for a moment how regular horses express amusement. "Don't tell me you actually bought into that whole modern concept of unicorns as sweet, meek, prey animals?"

Your heart stops, just for a beat, as what he's saying sinks in. "Are you sayin' unicorns are predators?"

"Did you really think we weren't? Goddamn, Eridan. I should be assigning you recommended reading if you're going to keep coming out here." For a second, you think he's doing whatever the horse version of a smirk might be. "If history's not enough, think about the _other_ animals that got mistaken for unicorns."

There are a lot of those, you want to tell him, but what immediately comes to mind has you second guessing that impulse. Narwhals, specialized predators of the icy deeps.

"I don't know where your mind just went, but stay on that track, sweetie, you're doing just fine."

You glare at him, and he tosses his horn with another whinny. "I remember shit about unicorns only bein' tamed by fair maidens. Ferocious an' wild until—"

"Oh, yeah," the unicorn interrupts, and he looks smug again—and you realize that he's closer, and twining about you like some sort of fucking horse cat, "that's true. Not the part about virgins, though—maidens either, it's more like…hmm. The pure of heart, you could call it, I guess?"

Right now, you're trying hard to remember how to breathe, what with solid warmth pressed against you and dark eyes looking far too deep into yours. "Oh, yeah?"

 

 

"Mhm. Virgins are _much_ less fun."

Your face burns crimson with humiliation, and you stumble back away from him. "Well I'm sorry for not bein' enough fun'."

From the startled expression he's wearing, the unicorn didn't expect his commentary to have that kind of effect on you. In fact, he almost looks guilty, and more than that, apologetic. "Wait, Eridan, I didn't mean it like that—"

"Yeah? Then what _did_ you mean it like?"

Long moments pass, moments that make you consider turning around and heading back home. until he finally raises his head and meets your eyes. "…I meant it to be reassuring," he says, and his tail flicks, in the way that you've learned means he's trying to be sincere. "I didn't realize you weren't, ah…"

"Well I am," you say, and it's snippier than you intend it to be. "So why don't you just tell me the fuckin' _truth_ about what unicorns prefer, an' let me sort out what that means to me, huh?"

"I don't know if—"

You give a sharp nod and turn on a heel. "Right, okay, bye then."

"Wait—Eridan, wait, _fuck_ —"

You do not wait. You keep walking, back along the trail you'd already made, heading for where you know the path is. Even in winter, you've realized it: you _know_ these woods.

"Vantas!"

For some reason, that one word brings you up short, and you turn back to look at him. "What did you say?"

"Look, I—I can't give you more than that," the unicorn says, and takes the opportunity to dart around in front of you. "But it's part of my name. Okay?"

Slowly, you find yourself nodding. "I guess that's okay, yeah."

"Good, okay. Now, uh—well, some unicorns prefer virgins? The, uh, more territorial ones. Who like shaping a partner to their exact wants and desires, uh—and some, some unicorns, prefer someone with a bit more experience?" He looks a bit flustered, and you consider calling him out on his own tendencies, but for the life of you, you can't figure out what those might be. Yet. "Those are the ones who. Well. The ones who like to get, you know, _creative_. Without having to spend a lot of time getting someone used to it, or ready for it, or—"

"Are you sayin' unicorns—"

"If you say it out loud, Eridan, I _will_ run you right the fuck through, I swear."

You snicker, at the absolutely embarrassed expression he's currently wearing, and cross your heart in a promise. "Shuttin' up."

"Right. Okay. So."

"So?"

He hesitates a moment, then jerks his head over towards the woods. "I didn't see you over fall break."

You shrug, feeling a bit guilty and a bit not, all at once. "I was in the woods, but it was huntin' season, my Da wanted to go out an' shit. Couldn't get away to go solo, an' I figured the last place you'd want to be near was a huntin' ground."

"Yeah. I felt you in the woods, so I figured—well, anyway, I figured if you wanted a tour…winter's a pretty good time for it. What do you say?"

For a moment, you hesitate. This is definitely going to go against what your Da asked. This is definitely going to lead into something that might be dangerous.

Vantas sees your hesitation, because he hurriedly presses his flank against your side again, and you find yourself absently petting him. "We don't have to go too far away from the path. I'm not looking to pull a will o' the wisp or anything, here, I just…I just want to show my friend around, okay?"

"Yeah," you say, slowly again, "okay." It's dawning on you that this is the most physical contact he's ever allowed, that this is the most eager he's been to _have_ you in the woods instead of getting rid of you, and you decide, then and there, to make the most of it. "Lead on."

 

* * *

 

When you get back home, it's like the fall was. Not much time has passed for your family, but it's been long enough that you can see the concern in your Da's eyes melt like ice in a thaw, and you find yourself with hot cider pressed into your hands and a stoked fire waiting.

You sip the cider to appease his worries, not wanting to mention that finding out that much about the unicorn, seeing another side of the path-edges you know, has left you with a burning warmth in your heart that won't seem likely to go out any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> absolutely amazing art by [saccharineomens](http://saccharineomens.tumblr.com/)


	5. flashing the argent skin

You are in your junior year of college when you meet Karkat. He's the scruffy kind of cute you don't completely expect to see on manicured lawns and in impeccable halls—but then, these are the lawns and halls of college, and scruffy is bog standard. You're pretty sure he's better kept than some of the professors around here, but you're not going to _lead_  with that, given that you have at least an ounce of tact.

Or, at least, an ounce of tact more than your brother does. You learned all of what _not_  to do, thanks to his previous failed attempts (and, though you would rather die than admit it, how well things were going for him with his girlfriend). So when you spot the cutie with the scruffy look, and someone mentions his name (okay maybe you asked), you head over to ask him out.

Okay, you're not gonna _brag_ , but you _were_  blessed with the Ampora good looks, and you'd gotten a little bit of that Ampora charm that Cro and your Da never shut up about. So when you sauntered on down to talk to Karkat the Scruffy Cute Guy, you were expecting...well, you weren't expecting that he'd fall right down at your feet in love, but you _also_  hadn't been expecting him to go as wide-eyed and floof-haired as a Ghibli Studios character before grabbing at his books and bolting for the door.

"I didn't even say _hi_ ," you mumble to yourself, closing the last five feet you'd been startled into leaving. "Goddammit—"

Fortunately for everyone around, your diatribe gets cut off before it actually manages to begin, at the sight of an abandoned notebook. Ever mindful of Karkat's privacy, you pick it up and carefully flip it open, looking at the inside of the front cover. When you spot **KARKAT VANTAS** , written above an email address in exactly the way you might expect (from scant moments of hearing him speak in class, and watching the way he interacted with the other students), you grin.

 

* * *

 

The email you fire off that same night is as cool and chill as you can manage to make it—hey, found your notebook, my name's Eridan Ampora, we have _Themes in Youth Lit_  together, let me know where to drop it off—and it takes a great effort of will on your part not to comment on how nice it was to meet him, or anything similarly salty.

Okay, well—maybe you're a _little_  hurt that he'd just turned and bolted like that.

 

It's late, almost midnight, before you get a reply. You'd basically been in bed, the lights shut off as you'd watched your latest Netflix show ( _One Day At A Time_ ), and you hadn't even realized you'd fallen asleep until the alert ping from your phone woke you up. You scramble for your glasses in the dark, and see: _Sure. Meet me at Color Blue Cafe. Tomorrow, any time between 2 and 5 PM._

You grin, flopping back into bed (once you've carefully closed your laptop down for the night and set your glasses aside) to stare at a new screen until you fall asleep again.

 

* * *

 

The next morning is spent getting ready for the meeting, making sure your hair is in some semblance of order and going for the kind of outfit you think might appeal to someone like Karkat. Comfy flannel, soft shirt and dark jeans, and you toss on the bandana-kerchief Cro's girlfriend knitted you for a bit of color.

On an afterthought, you snap a picture of yourself in the mirror and send it to Cro. Not for his approval or anything, but hey, might as well let him know you're grateful and all that shit.

 

The fact that you get a warm little glow of pride later on, when he texts back a _looking good, baby bro, you're gonna crush it_ , has absolutely nothing to do with wanting approval at _all_.

 

Time runs to a curious mix of fast and slow. You're eager for the day to pass, for another chance to see Karkat's face, but you're also uncertain, unsure of what you'll say to him or how to say it at all. Sure, you're crushing, but that doesn't grant you any special connections with him—if he decides to get his notebook back and fuck off to wherever he likes, then that's you hosed. The last thing you want to do is make the guy you might want to date uncomfortable around you. 

When you spot him through the window of the Color Blue Cafe, it's a relief. Part of you had been sure he wouldn't actually show, or that he'd send someone else to pick the book up for him, or—or, well, a million other things that don't seem to have come to pass.

You slip inside the cafe and Karkat's head snaps up, like he's been waiting for you to show. Deer-like, you freeze, and he seems to sigh (maybe rolls his eyes?) before jerking his head to invite you over.

"Uh," you say, on your arrival at his table, about as eloquently as you can manage.

"Fuck's sake," he mutters under his breath, then shoves something across the table at you. It's a scrap of paper, with IOU ONE (1) COFFEE written on it. "Here. It's a thank you, for getting my notebook. The guy at the bar, he'll make you anything you want if you give him this."

"Oh, uh," you say, and wince. "Thanks, I mean—here, I made sure it didn't get beat up or anythin', but, uh—I had to look at the cover to figure out how to contact you?"

"Sure, sure." Karkat plucks the notebook out of your hands and drops it into his bag. "Thanks. Again, I guess. I mean, I probably could've gotten it back from you in Youth Lit, but this cuts down on my wasted goodwill in Borders, Boundaries, and Crossings."

Your eyes go wide—you'd guessed, from his answers in class, that Karkat Vantas was a fairly intelligent man, but _damn_. "You're in Anthro 465? How the hell did you get in? The prof for that is _Alexis fucking Arrayl_ , it is _stupid_  hard to get into his advanced courses—"

He smirks at you in a way that makes you wonder if you're getting a once-over. "Jealous? You really shouldn't be, I had to stay up until two in the morning, refreshing shit— _and_  I only got wait-listed, I had to show up at his door with a sad look and a note."

You groan, slumping against the desk. "Damn, I should've done that."

"Uh—" Karkat's expression is...odd. If you didn't know better, you'd say he wanted to try solving your problems for you. "Well, I mean, someone in the class was talking about dropping, and—I mean, he's a softie, why don't you try going for it? Couldn't hurt, right?"

It's your turn for an odd expression. You blink at him, like you're trying to make sense of his motivations, and he goes crimson. "No," you say, a little slower, a little quieter. "I don't think it could."

When he turns away, it's like the spell breaks, and it's your turn to flush, a much more delicate pink. "Well," he says, clearing his throat. "If you're sure, then—sure. You, uh—you ought to get your drink, before Captor goes off shift."

"Right, of course," you say, and shove out of your seat to head over.

 

You don't actually expect him to be at the table when you turn back. The fact that he is, it's a pleasant surprise—even if he's far too buried in his studies for you to feel comfortable going back over. Instead, you stay a moment longer, watching him work as Sollux makes your drink. He gets into what he's reading, an intense look in your eyes that reminds of you of hunting with Cro and your Da, of your old days trekking through a woods you knew too well. It's a nice little piece of home—nicer still, when he looks up as you go, waving a distracted hand in a silent goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of these timeskips will be deliberate


	6. there like a golden knife

The second time you see Karkat (if you're _not_  counting that disastrous first meeting), it's almost a week later, in your first ever class of ANTH 465: Boundaries, Borders, and Crossings.

He doesn't seem all that surprised to see you, clutching your shiny new class assignment pass (Dr. Arrayl had insisted on assigning it before class started, and all you'd have to do was turn it in to the appropriate authorities after), and you manage a shy grin. Karkat sighs, shoves his books a fraction more to the side, and jerks his head towards the empty seat on his left.

Your grin broadens, as you drop down into the slightly more comfortable than usual chair, arranging your own notebooks and pens. "So, uh—" you start, and then Dr. Arrayl gets the class started before you can say anything else.

 

And then class ends, and Karkat gives you a little salute, shoves his work into his bag, and heads on out. "Got a class," he tells you, as he goes past your desk, and you wait until he's out of earshot before you groan and drop your head down on the table. You have regrets, and you would like this crush to be over, as quickly as possible, thanks ever so.

You're already very aware (unfortunately) that your crushes aren't the sort to evaporate all that quick. The thought's enough to get you grumpy, and you take the opportunity (and two hour break between this class and your next) to head over to the Color Blue Cafe. Sollux the bartender (who had rolled his eyes and grumbled about idiots when you'd given him Karkat's handmade IOU) isn't on shift this time, but you're okay with the new girl, whose tag proclaims her to be ROXY! :3 and who also seems to be a good deal more friendly.

One lavender strawberry latte later, and you're halfway through outlining your first essay for Youth Lit, the one due about a month from now. You figure you can get the whole thing written up by the time the professor actually mentions it, but that might be something to keep an eye on, according to your planner. Initially, you plan on using the last half-hour to relax, but then Karkat Vantas drops into the seat across from you and shoves a brand new mug of latte—lavender strawberry, by the scent of it—across the table.

"Here," he says, and you make a mental note that he's as abrupt as ever, even when he's blushing red enough to beat a tomato, "for the space I'm going to take up. I have no earthly fucking clue how you managed it, but you snagged the best godsdamn table in the entire place."

"Uh," you manage, having flashbacks to your last conversation in Color Blue. "You're welcome? Or, thank you, fuck—are you tryin' to pre-snipe my table, here?"

"Yep." He doesn't seem the least bit sorry about it either, hauling his backpack up onto his lap and spreading out across the far side of the table. A table vulture whose hovering you'd been trying to ignore for the past ten minutes is promptly shut down with a glare that you think might carry _actual_ weight and mass. "Got a problem with it?"

"Uh," you say again, and mentally call yourself ten kinds of idiot. "No?"

"Good."

"Just, uh, I'm leavin' in like—I've got a class, soonish, so—" You gesture vaguely over the table, as if to convey your current state of mind.

Karkat, for some reason, frowns. You're about to try explaining yourself again when he picks up the mug. "Well, shit. I asked Rox what you ordered last time, but I'll get her to put it in a to-go cup, don't worry."

"Wait—" But he's already gone back up to the counter, and you're left trying to come up with better things to say to a conversation that's already over.

 

* * *

 

It's the fourth time you see him—sort of—when you walk into Youth Lit on Wednesday. You're grateful to have two classes with him, but you're kind of starting to wonder if you really ought to be taking so many three hour courses, and you'd done your best to keep that front and center in your mind as you headed over to a place you were sure to see him. Besides, you're liking having your Fridays off, and almost the whole of Monday, but you _know_ you got lucky with Youth Lit and Dr. Arrayl. Chances are, next semester's profs won't be half as interesting.

And chances are, you won't have as many overlaps with an anthropology major next semester.

 

Karkat actually fleeing the scene after the last class cut a hell of a lot deeper than you're willing to admit, so when you see him that fourth time, you're doing your best to play it cool.

This "cool" is ruined when Karkat does the same book shift and head jerk as he did in 465, and it's all you can do not to skip over to the shared desk while wearing a giddy and idiotic grin. He didn't even do the sigh this time, which is enough to have you floating on air, and that feeling only increases when he slides a sheet of paper over to you. "Partner signups," he says, staring at the desk. "Got anyone yet?"

"Nope," you tell him, feeling way more cheerful than someone in your position ought to. No partner! For a partner project! You are so fucking screwed! "Haven't had a chance to find anyone yet."

"Good." He picks up the paper before you can actually do more than glance at it and passes it to the next row. "Because I already put you down to work with me."

You think, for a moment, that you might faint then and there.

Maybe.

You'd do it if you weren't _sure_ that Cro would mock you for life. "Uh," you say, and you swear it is for the last time, "where do you want to work?"

 

You're not all that surprised when he picks Color Blue, and you don't put up anything even approaching a protest—their lattes are good, and it's a place that, oddly enough, seems to feel like home. Besides, the ambiance is fine, the lighting is good enough that neither of you will be straining your eyes, and hey, if you're lucky, you'll be able to get the coveted good table.

 

* * *

 

It turns out, you are able to _join_  Karkat at said coveted good table, as he's already taken it over and spread across it, like some encroaching wildfire. Good way to describe him, in your opinion, even if it's maybe a bit over-poetic. When he spots you coming in the door—it's a little surprising, actually, maybe even a little uncanny, the way his head snaps right up when you so much as touch the handle—he starts making space for you at the table, then rolls his eyes when you head over to the bar before dropping your bag off.

"Can't wait for that daily dose of caffeine, Ampora?"

"Bold a you to think this is my maximum dose." You drop down into a seat, smirking. "Besides, I got you one too. Blueberry, with extra chocolate, was it?"

It might be your (admittedly rather over-active) imagination, but you think he blushes at that. Huh. Remembering his drink order's a plus, then.

 

The next two hours are passed in the companionable kind of silence you don't usually find with people you barely know, let alone the ones you have raging crushes on. It's a good feeling, one you're not used to, but one you find yourself hoping you'll feel again. Soon.

 

And—as odd as it might seem—from the looks Karkat's giving you, you're not the only one who's feeling that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I'm not gonna lie the art saccharineomens did was So Good I got hype to write chapter 6 and anyway...things are gonna get done Quick from here on out
> 
> I might also consider going into details from the rest of the bright chimeric universe, and there's the possibility of a sequel/companion story...it depends on interest levels


	7. dart the feet (of the unicorn)

So you don't actually realize it until much, _much_ later, but this makes the third party you run into Karkat at, and maybe the first time you realize (again, _much_ later) that he's setting these run-ins up deliberately. 

It's hardly your fault. So what if he's not the most social guy, you're not necessarily the most observant, and you usually only go to parties to appease teammates, or whoever else is on your ass about not being ~social~ enough. You'd assumed he was the same, dragged over there by someone else concerned about his wellbeing after he'd spent a solid eight hours straight watching Tolkien movies on the weekends. 

Or. Whatever he liked to watch. You weren't going to assume. Judge. _Whatever._  

 

Anyway, being a junior comes with _responsibilities,_ like stepping up to lead the team, which meant time spent at parties keeping an eye on freshman, wild on their first taste of freedom, and sophomores, who really ought to know better. 

 

At least three of them have already called you "dad". You are _not_ getting emotional over this.

 

 

You'd also resolved not to let it affect you, but that resolution goes right the fuck out the window when you spot Karkat—less so because of Karkat, more so because of the fucking smirk he's wearing. 

 

The freshman you'd been wrangling is gently manhandled into the other assistant captain's care, and you mutter something that sounds enough like an excuse to get a nod and a wave off. Good enough for you, bad enough for Karkat, because now you didn't even have momentary social politeness to grind down your temper before you head over to him. "See somethin' funny, then?" 

"Yep," he drawls, and you can already feel the scowl coming on. "It's pretty fucking cute that a kid with half a head on you calls you 'dad'."

The wind promptly drops out of your sails, and you blink at him, maybe just a tiny bit dumbfounded. "What now?"

"I said what I said." He's looking smug enough (and relaxed enough) that you're wondering how much hard alcohol got dumped into the trash can punch you pulled the freshmen out of, and when Karkat notices the look you're giving him, he tips his cup towards you. "What, did you want some? I thought you didn't drink at these things." 

Up go the eyebrows. "Exactly how many a these things have you been to? I didn't figure you for the partyin' type." 

When he shrugs, your eyes narrow—it's not like you're _that_ good at reading people, but the way his eyes dart off, and his shoulders hunch in, it's got you wondering if he's dodging a topic. "Best place to find alcohol that'll actually get me drunk." 

Aw, _fuck._ "Kar, if you're tellin' me that you're wasted—" 

"Nicknames?" He flashes you a grin that has you reconsidering several points of debate, and also how much you hate blushing. "Damn, I'm good." 

"Oh my fuckin' god, you're drunk, you disaster. Who's your ride?"

You're...probably— _probably_ —imagining the almost, maybe, smoldering, burning sort of look in his eyes, when he says: "You." 

He's gonna fucking kill you. Stone dead, nothing to be done, and you'll go to your grave thinking about how _badly_ you'd wanna be his ride, anywhere, any way, any time of day— _fuck,_ now he's smirking again. "Really now. Who promised you that, huh?"

 

 

"No promises yet, but you seem like the type." If he's giving you a once over like you think he's giving you a once over, you're going to excuse yourself to dunk your head under a cold shower. "Feel like being my knight in shining armor, Ampora?"

 

Hm. Fuck. 

That might've gone straight to your dick. 

 

But you manage to scrounge up an "Uh sure" on account of, he's listing a little to the side and when you get an arm around him, he's leaning _very_ heavily on you. 

Strider, the _actual_ captain of your motley crew, gives you an amused look when you cast a look—with your wide, panicked eyes—his way. "Taking home a friend, Eridan?" 

"Uh—yeah, is that okay? I—"

"You're fine, dude. The freshmen are wrangleable, the sophomores are actually behaving for once, and—" Strider swears, as Karkat sags even further. "Dude, hey, are you alright? Eridan, get him home."

You don't wait for Karkat to answer him—hell, you don't even wait for rational thought or dignity to catch you up. Nope: you scoop his legs up off the ground, cradling his back in your arm, and set off for your car.

 

* * *

 

When you get Karkat settled into the front seat of your car, leaving wolf whistles and catcalls behind you, you think it's almost worth the chirping you're going to be getting for the next solid week, to see him like this. Despite his knee-jerk reaction (sputtering indignance), he'd somehow managed to fall asleep on the walk down to the car, and the expression he makes while he's drifting hits several tender spots in your heart.

You don't realize that you have no idea where he lives until you're more than halfway to your own apartment. 

Fuck.

 

Another glance at him confirms what you'd been worried about—Karkat's completely out, which leaves you either stumbling around calling random people you _think_ might know where he lives, or...taking him back to your place.

The idea has never been more appealing, or more dangerous. Karkat Vantas, in your apartment? After he'd been flirting with you?

"I'm _royally_ screwed," you mutter to yourself, and nearly jump out of your seat when Karkat snorts.

"God, that's obvious." When you look at him, he cracks an eyelid, smirking. "I can't believe you fell for that. You seriously thought I was stupid enough to get wasted off of trash can punch?"

You have several excellent rebuttals, many of which revolve around exactly how _many_ cups of you'd seen him drinking, but his eyes, their deep amber brown—golden, maybe? They make you think of fine aged whiskey—are all too distracting for you. "Uh."

"I'll give you that, you're fucking aces at making an exit. Points for the princess carry."

 

Shitty remarks have you back on more even ground, and you roll your eyes. "What, you got a thing for bein' treated like a princess?"

"Or maybe I've got a thing for princes and princesses. Could go either way." You're very tempted to kick him out of your car, especially as he's already completely at ease enough to fiddle with your car settings. "Take your pick of options."

 

 

"I'll take a place to drop you off, Vantas, and see you sober in the morning. Jackass." He gives you a little salute that has you rolling your eyes— _again_ —and rattles off an address that you recognize. 

 

The car lapses into a comfortable silence that you don't dare to question, and when you finally drop him off at home, you realize what you hadn't all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~there's now officially a Karkat POV version of this chapter that will be released when the fic is finished.~~
> 
> [check it out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18450416)


	8. fighting for the crown

The fourth time you dance with Karkat Vantas, Toploader is playing in the background and you're a little bit lost in his eyes.

 

You've had enough dates that you've actually lost count of them, and he hasn't—you haven't—the both of you—

Okay, so, you haven't had sex _yet_  but you're pretty goddamn sure it's only a matter of time. "Dancing in the Moonlight" is playing in the background, and you're pretty freaking sure the host of this particular party set out to replicate the music video (and maybe also _The Umbrella Academy_ ) with all the faerie lights they hung up literally everywhere.

You've danced with Kar enough times to know that he's a fucking _phenomenal_  dancer, and you're getting lost in the whiskey gold of his attention, the pleasant sort of burning that you'd _usually_  put down to alcohol flowing through you. "Not half bad, Ampora," he says, and spins you.

"You fuck," you say, but the irritation is _maybe_  a little canceled out by the fact that you're laughing as you say it. "Where the hell did you learn to dance?"

"Where did _you_?" He smirks when you blush, tugging you back in and swaying to the music like you're teens at Junior Function. You're not fooled; you've seen him swing dance like nobody's business. "Come on. That was some straight up classic ballroom shit, back there, and you kept up with me during swing, you broke out some shit straight out of _Grease_  at the 50's theme party—"

"My brother wanted to learn." It spills out of you, all in a flustered rush, and you know your flush is creeping higher when his smirk grows wider. "Anyway, uh—I dunno, he figured himself for John Travolta, or some shit, an' well, Da said a gentleman _ought_  to learn how to dance, so if he really wanted to swing we both ought to go an' also we had to learn some a the more _proper_  dances, too. He came sometimes, too—my Da, I mean—an'...I think he missed it? He said he hadn't danced much since—"

You cut yourself off there, and Karkat's hand flattens out on your back, pressing you in closer. It's a little more comforting than you thought it would be, in the middle of a George Ezra-type jive, and you let  yourself relax. When he murmurs, "Didn't mean to pry," you shake your head.

"Gotta talk about it sometimes, right?" The smile he gives you in reply has you soaring again, and when the tune changes into a tango, it's _your_  turn to smirk. "Right then. Hope you can keep up."

 

* * *

 

He can, in fact, keep up.

You get to lead this one, but the way he's looking at you makes you wonder if maybe it would've been better to pull a Ginger—everything Fred did, except backwards and in high heels. Instead, you're being treated the sight of Karkat being _stupid_  competent as the two of you dance together to the freaking tango from _Mr. & Mrs. Smith_. Part of you is seriously considering asking Karkat if he had anything to do with the playlist suggestions. And the decorations. And the—

"Yes," Karkat says, like he can tell what you're thinking. "You were way fucking better than I expected the last three times we did this, so I figured, suggestion the action-spy-thriller-superhero theme, see where it went from there."

You open your mouth, ready to say something. 

"And no," he says, rolling his eyes. "I'm not reading your mind."

You close your mouth.

"You kept glancing at the music, then back at me. It's not even a challenge when you're making it this easy for me to read you, dude." Even when he's chirping you, he seems to be enjoying himself, thoroughly, and it's hard not to be absolutely happy that you're here, with him, enjoying this kind of moment—wrapped up in music, surrounded by brilliant fireflies of light, just a little buzzed on life and decent booze—when he looks at you like you're the sunrise. "What?"

"I—I'm just happy, y'know?"

"Good. That's what I like to hear." A pleased blush paints his neck a color you'd quite like to kiss, and you lean in to do just that, a move that's only interrupted when he tugs you in for a proper kiss.

"Wow," you mumble, when you pull away. "Damn, okay—"

"Oh my god, Eridan," he says, just a little breathless, one hand caught up in your hair, the other entwined with yours. "Are you drunk?"

"On you," you tell him, and kiss his blushes away. "C'mon, let's—"

"You sure you don't have to, uh—stay, make the rounds?" He knows your schedule. You're so fucking blown away that he pays attention to you this much, that he _knows your schedule_.

"Nah," you say, glancing around. "Freshmen and sophomores weren't invited to this one, so if they show up, they get booted out. I might get a call if a bunch of 'em try sneakin' in, but that's not likely, they're good guys and they know the lines."

"They know the lines because the last time they crossed 'em, you had them skating suicides until someone threw up."

The memory makes you grin in satisfaction, but you've got to correct the record: "He only threw up because he did two kegstands the night before, at the party he was _explicitly_  told not to attend."

Karkat's already tugging you along, off the dance floor and off towards an empty room—his room, fuck, you'd forgotten his housemates were throwing this party—but you can feel his eyes roll, even though you can't see them from this angle. "Right, like you expect me to believe that _you_  were a well-behaved little freshman who went everywhere his juniors and seniors told him without even a peep of disobedience—actually, no, don't even answer, I can see it now, you fucking cub scout."

"That's no fair, I'm already a Rover," you say, then realize you've fallen right into his trap. "Godsdammit."

"Oh my _god_ , Ampora," he says, and then you shut him up before he can say anything else.

 

* * *

 

Closed doors dim the sounds of the party, once you finally move away from where you had Kar pinned against the door and sprawl across the comfortable bed with him. Nothing dims the look in his eyes—fire, again, and you wonder what internal war he's waging right now—and your legs tangle with his as the kisses you trade turn slower, enticing and longing. This is maybe the furthest the two of you have ever gone, and you're thinking that maybe you'd like to go a little bit further. If he wants to. If he'll let you.

When his hand strays down towards your hip, you press in against him, just a bit more eagerly than you'd wanted to come off, and he laughs, a deep thing that makes you groan, roll him over to his back and kiss him again. "Kar—"

"Wait," he says, and you pull back immediately. The look on his face makes you sit up entirely, giving him as much space as you can—you're not sure what's happening, but something is definitely wrong. "Eridan, we—we need to talk."

 _Aw, fuck_ , you think. You're all for a good "where is this relationship going?" chat, but from the...pained? desperate? expression he's wearing, you've got a feeling that this is nothing so fun as the "I want to know what kind of commitment you're ready to make" speech several partners had assumed you would run away from (instead of towards, quickly, and possibly with a little too much excitement). "Sure, a'course."

He shifts further up the bed, looking more nervous than you've seen him in the entire time you've known him. "It's not—I'm not—fuck, okay, uh. I really, _really_  want to do this with you, but—but I don't want you to, uh. Not. Know shit. About me."

"...okay?" You'd been pretty sure that you knew a good amount about him already, but hell, if he's got deeper secrets he's not ready to keep, you're not going to judge. You had an imaginary unicorn best friend, after all. "What's up?"

"I'm Vantas," he says, refusing to meet your eyes. In fact, he looks quite absorbed by the bedcovers. "I'm—we met, uh, ages ago, but then you'd...come into the forest, and leave the forest, and I kinda lost track of time for a bit? But you were older, all of a sudden, and in college, and, uh—I mean, I've been to college before, so I figured—"

Ice cold dread is creeping over you. You hadn't—you hadn't really talked about shit to anyone, not in a while, getting made fun of _once_  for believing in unicorns, but maybe—maybe he'd heard, maybe someone told him, you didn't think he was the type to make fun of someone but— "Kar, I'm really not followin'. What the fuck are you talking about?"

" _Fuck._ " He hisses the invective out, scrubbing his face with both hands. "I'm doing this all wrong."

"Yeah, I'll say," you mutter, refusing to look at him. "Just—say it, okay? Get it over with."

"I think it's easier if I show you," he says, and you'd really like to keep being mad at him but he sounds...weirdly helpless. "Shift back a little bit more, okay?"

"Sure, fine, whatever," you say, and roll off the bed, ready to leave.

 

And then you stop, and stare, because in Karkat Vantas' spot on the bed is the unicorn you've known for over half your life.

 

And then you turn and bolt out the door before he can finish shifting back.


	9. [they] lie at the high tomb's enclosure

The first time you see Karkat Vantas after the party—the first time you see him and know him, fully, for exactly who and what he is—you turn tail and run.

You're pretty sure he hadn't been expecting to see you walking to class along the little woodland trail near the campus; you had been absolutely certain that you weren't on his running route on the time that he usually went for a jog, and you're not _proud_  of your reaction, but blind panic was a hell of a drug.

Behind you, you hear him swear, and then— "Eridan, _wait_ ," he calls out, but you're already a good few meters down the path and taking a turn into the woods itself. You know he might chase you, and frankly, you can't bring yourself to care. All you can see, when you look at him, is that same deer-like creature, delicate legs and hoofs folded under him as if he was sitting, just as Karkat had been, a soft dappling of grey on his hide, just as your unicorn had.

You can't shake the memory out of your mind. You can't forget the betrayal you felt. This _whole damn time_ , and he'd never so much as—okay, _sure_ , he'd used the same last name as his unicorn had used a name, but it was long enough and dreamlike ago that he shouldn't fault you for never having figured it out. It wasn't as if he had actually made the effort to tell you _before_  you got invested, before the two of you struck up whatever it was you'd had together.

 

* * *

 

Up until now, you'd managed to avoid him with little effort. As long as you sat far enough off in your class, as long as you remembered his schedule, you were fine. As long as you didn't have to see him, face to face, as long as you didn't spend any time or effort or energy actually _thinking_  about it, you were completely, totally, utterly fine.

As long as you didn't run off into the goddamn woods thinking you could get away from a _goddamn woods unicorn_ , you were definitely fine.

 

"I said to _wait_ ," Karkat nearly snarls, and you're suddenly reminded of what he'd said earlier, about unicorns being predators. It's a very uncomfortable reminder, and you whirl around on a heel, and—

—find yourself face to face with your unicorn. The. _The_  unicorn. Vantas.

And he's glaring at you.

"I know you're not fucking deaf, Ampora," he says, and you glance to his _very_  sharp horn tip, then back at him. "Stop looking at me like that, you monumental asshole, I'm not going to fucking stab you."

He does the shimmer-shift thing again, and Karkat Vantas is standing before you once more, human and stockier than his unicorn form by far and beautifully warm and _real_. It's almost painful to watch, and you think maybe, _maybe_  he can see it in your eyes, because he's suddenly looking guilty all over again.

"Listen—"

"No, you listen," you say, and try to hide the fact that you're a little surprised by the sound of your own voice. "I thought I was...I don't know, fuckin' crazy or somethin'. I thought I'd made you up, or dreamed it, or it was a hallucination, or hell, maybe I inhaled some bad pot or somethin'. You told me shit all about yourself, you, you made everythin' this whole fuckin' mystery, an' then you have the _nerve_  to show up at my college like it's nothin'—"

"Okay, first off, we're going down the road that seems to suggest I would be stalking you, and let's get one thing straight, I would _not_." Karkat's hands move when he talks, wide gestures that are words as much as the ones he's saying out loud, and you hate that you're so entranced. "I'd been planning to go to college anyway, especially once I realized that so much time had passed. I didn't actually...I didn't know you were here. I mean, I'd...I kinda hoped I'd run into you, at some point, somewhere in the great wide world, but I, uh."

He shrugs, you raise an eyebrow, gesture for him to keep going.

"Look, I think it's pretty fucking obvious that I didn't expect to see you when I did. I panicked, and I fucked up, and apparently I've _kept_  fucking up, because you're hurting, and I hate that, and, I—I just—"

"You what?"

"I'm sorry," he says, and his shoulders slump in a way that makes your heart ache all over again. "I'll leave you alone from now on, okay? Here, and in the forest, I just. Fuck, Eridan, just let me apologize to you, please?"

You're silent for a long while, watching him, mulling it over—silent for maybe too long, because the defeated slump spreads through the whole of his body, and he turns to go, and—

It's kind of unthinkable that he would, actually.

"Dinner," you say, and his head snaps up. "It better be some place _really_  nice, because I wanna see you in a suit. If you're, you know, apologizin'."

"Of course," he says, eyes shining whiskey gold all over again. He looks like you've made the rest of his life, and you can feel the blush creeping up your skin. "Anything you want, Eridan, I swear—"

"We'll start with dinner," you tell him, firm as you can. It's about the only way you can keep yourself from hauling him in and kissing him absolutely fucking senseless.

 

Maybe after dinner. If he wears the right suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a slightly shorter chapter, but we only have one more to go, and that's gonna be a heckin doozy


	10. [and] evils, run them through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been a wild fucking ride and I thank you all for taking it

The first time you and Karkat walk into the forest you know and love so well _together_ , it is the springtime, and you are hand in hand.

Your first date had gone well; so had your second and third and fourth—the fifth had something of a rather early end when you'd shown up in your _best_  suit and he'd almost literally jumped your bones before you could even get out the door, but you didn't really mind that the fancy outing you had planned turned to makeouts and cuddling and movies—but you guys had actually had an opportunity to, you know, _talk_. Openness and honesty really did it for a guy, you were finding.

You'd also been finding out a hell of a lot more about your family than you'd ever thought possible, but that was something to dwell on for another day.

 

It's the first time you've been back to the forest in god knows how long. It's probably the first time you're walking in with any kind of certainty that you'll end up exactly where you want to go, see exactly who you'll want to see, and come back home at exactly the time you were planning to. Faerie, as Karkat puts it, is _weird_.

 

The two of you make it all the way to a clearing that you maybe remember just a little too well, and Karkat temporarily shifts into his unicorn form to do something fiddly with the wards. You still don't totally get that part of it, but you've read enough high fantasy that you've got a guess or two about what's going on. 

Doesn't mean you can't tease him while he's doing it, though. "You know, I never thought I'd be attracted to a horse," you say, in as conversational a tone as you can manage without laughing.

"But I'm a really _attractive_  horse," Karkat retorts, wearing a smirk that transfers easily from one form to the next as he shifts human again. "And a really fucking attractive human, actually."

"I'm not gonna argue there, Kar, so don't expect me to."

His laughter is a sweet sound in the spring air, and it tastes even sweeter on your lips, when you lean in and steal a kiss that quickly turns into two, and three, and many, many more.

"If you keep that up," he murmurs against the hollow of your throat, "we're not going to be getting out of here for a while."

"Didn't plan on it," you tell him, pressing him flush against the tree as you breathe the scent of him in. "Besides, we're in the _woods_. Weird time shit's a given, right?"

"Right," he says, and it's a little more breathless than he'd probably planned, given that you've started sucking marks into _his_  throat.

 

* * *

 

The clearing's grass is soft under your knees, cool whispers of contact a sharp contrast to the hard heat of Karkat, boiling just beneath you. Laying him out and kissing him open is all too easy; the look in his eyes is an unwritten invitation. You've both strayed so close to this before, never quite managing to reach the point of hands sliding up under clothes, dipping down lower, mutual pleasure shared—

Apparently, this is the moment you've both been waiting for. Apparently, springtime in the forest means that all bets are off.

He kisses you again; you fumble his pants open. You kiss him; he breaks away from kissing to strip off your shirt. The next time the two of you come together for a common cause, it is the sheer and simple pleasure of physical contact, made infinitely better by the lack of clothing between you. "You're beautiful," he tells your throat, your jaw, your lips. When it's your turn, you repeat the praise in reverse, moving lower and lower down.

"Is this—" you manage to start, then he shakes his head, eyes like the wild thing he never _truly_  seemed to be. "What's wrong?"

"Pretty sure we both forgot the lube," he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, already painted with an embarrassed sort of flush. "I'm not really interested in _experimenting_  with the stuff around here, half of it'll make us fuck for a year and the other half's probably a prank, and—"

"Kar."

"—I mean if you cut some of that shit carefully with other shit, or distill it properly, then it can be kinda fun I guess—"

"Kar."

"—not that we have to try that if you don't want to, I'm not suggesting we do the fae equivalent of aphrodisiac shots—"

" _Kar_."

"What!"

You flash him a grin, cup the length of him with your palm. "We don't have to _fuck._ "

This is, apparently, the best offer he's gotten all week, because he's on you in a second flat, open-mouthed kisses that leave you breathless, a hand in your hair and another on your dick, mirroring the exact way you'd been touching him. Tangled limbs and lips leave you reeling enough that when he starts tipping sideways out of your lap (you're proud, that you checked his lunge enough to hold him there instead of falling over like he'd intended you to), you tip with him, wrapped up in each other on soft grasses.

Your hips meet his, his hand bumps yours, the two of you kiss as you stroke each other off, a differently desperate sort of symphony than the one in his dorm room however many weeks ago, but it works just as well as that one had, you find each other just as well as you always had, and when he moans your name in that season-sweet voice, you give his back in kind.

"Fuck," he gasps against your shoulder, after a particularly vicious move on your part—he's never handled stimulation in multiple places at once very well, and sucking bruises into his skin as you'd teased the most sensitive parts of him was most _definitely_  cruel—and you offer up a breathless laugh. "Shut it, Ampora, stop doing your crunches, mortals shouldn't have this kind of stamina."

"You think it's hot," you tell him, eyes widening in delight when he actually colors even more crimson. Shot in the dark has apparently paid off well. "You think it's _sexy_  that I can keep up with you."

"No shit, Sherlock," Karkat replies, and kisses you again. You'll let everything slide so long as that burning look stays in his eyes. The weight of his _want_  is a tangible thing, laying heavily over your skin and making you burn nearly as much as he himself would. "You're the sexiest thing I've ever _seen_ , in this world, in Fae, in every world—"

"Oh," you manage to say, then follow it up with "wow," which makes it his turn to laugh, his turn to kiss you senseless and leave bites all along your throat and collarbones as you rut helplessly into his hand—

 

The two of you, through no special planning, manage to spill together, finishing at the same time in a twist of fate that feels almost preordained. Sticky mess and happiness cling closer than a second skin as the two of you close your eyes and curl into each other. Your clearing's warmth is not lost in a moment; the cool breezes over you do not leave you cold. Instead, you drift, you sleep, you dream.

 

* * *

 

When you wake once more, your dream is still there, heartbreakingly beautiful and astonishingly real, as he gripes about dried come on his stomach and grass stains on his hip. You smile up at him from your absolutely rapturous state of bliss, a look that spreads into a grin when he suddenly becomes self-conscious, the tips of his ears going red.

"Staring at me like that isn't going to make the cleaning process go any faster, Ampora."

"Don't care," you say, and haul him back down into your arms, settling kisses up his jaw and over his hair until he finally stops complaining. "I'm runnin' out of adjectives to describe how I feel."

"Fuck you, I demand all of the adjectives."

Your turn to blush, but you dredge something up from the depths of your memory: "This is paradisiacal."

"Sounds way too Catholic. Try again."

"Fae-like," you immediately say, kissing his scowl. "Like I'm away with the faeries."

"I suppose," he says, pressing back in close to you, "that'll have to do. Seeing as it's true, for now."

"For now," you agree, and before he can take it like another dagger to the heart, you kiss him again. "For a damn long time, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 4/13
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to EVERYONE who kept up with this fic the whole time, and to all of you who joined up along the way, and to everyone discovering it now that it's finally done. I've had a lot of fun getting this written, and this universe is one of my favorites, definitely. I hope you enjoy—and I promise, there's at least a little more to come, somewhere, somehow, someday.


End file.
